


Serendipity

by gemjam



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, Steter Secret Santa 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:08:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28215987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gemjam/pseuds/gemjam
Summary: Sometimes it's all about timing.Based on the songChristmas Wrapping by The Waitresses
Relationships: Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 19
Kudos: 154





	Serendipity

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ShebaRen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShebaRen/gifts).



> Steter Secret Santa gift for the lovely ShebaRen for the prompt of getting together/meet cute. I hope you enjoy it :)

Stiles finishes tying up the snow boots and gets to his feet, walking over to check them out in the store mirror. He sighs. Why do they have to go somewhere so cold? The thing he misses the most about California is the mild winters. And his dad. And his jeep.

“They suit you.”

He turns to see a man sitting down by Stiles’ abandoned, beat-up sneakers, and he feels suddenly protective of them. He’s a good-looking man. A sinfully good-looking man. A little older than Stiles. Totally his type. Stiles looks for a name badge, making sure there’s a chance that the guy’s actually flirting and not just on commission. No badge. That’s a hopeful sign. He turns back to the mirror.

“Yeah?”

“As unenthused as you look about them,” the guys says, “Yeah.”

Stiles’ lips quirk into a smile and he goes back to the seat, sitting beside the man. “It’s the trip, not the boots, that I’m not looking forward to. I wasn’t built for this kind of weather. Why do people want to go to a climate that requires special clothing? But Lydia’s friend has a cabin in Vermont so that’s where we’re going.”

The guys nods, following Stiles’ gaze. “Girlfriend?”

“No,” Stiles dismisses. “I mean, we dated in high school, but I’m mostly for dudes.”

“I see,” the guy responds slowly before holding out his hand. “I’m Peter.”

“Stiles,” he responds, shaking his hand. It’s firm and warm.

“It’s nice to meet you, Stiles,” Peter says.

“Yeah,” Stiles agrees. “So, are you here with anyone today?”

“I’m here with my ex too,” Peter says, nodding towards the opposite wall. “He’s the very manly man.”

Stiles breathes out a laugh, nodding his head. “Noted.”

“Good,” Peter says. “Maybe when you get back from Vermont, we could get a coffee, Stiles. If you think you might be free.”

“I’m a perpetual graduate student,” Stiles says. “So I always have time.”

“Perpetual graduate student?” Peter asks, looking curious.

“It’s a long story,” Stiles says. “Give me your number and I’ll tell it to you.”

As Peter accepts his offered phone, typing his information into it, Stiles can’t help but be proud. That was damn smooth, Stilinski.

He does tell Peter the whole story, about how his degree led him to graduate school and his Master’s in criminology led him to being interested in psychology which led to him being interested in sociology and now he’s nearing 30 with a degree, two and a half Master’s degrees and zero experience in the job market.

“I am overqualified and under prepared for anything life can throw at me,” Stiles says.

“I’m more into dinner parties than survival, so that sounds pretty perfect to me,” Peter responds.

Stiles can’t help but be charmed every time he talks to Peter. And they talk a lot. They call and they text and it feels like such a perfect fit, but somehow they never get that date. Peter travels a lot for work, Stiles does tutoring and leads study groups, so despite not being tied down in a traditional way, Stiles can never quite find a way to slot into Peter’s schedule. It’s frustrating to say the least.

Then, with the changing of the weather, Stiles is out for the first time with his spring jacket on when he joins the line at his favourite deli and is surprised to see just who is in front of him.

“Peter!”

Peter turns, looking wary until he meets Stiles’ eyes and smiles warmly at him. “Stiles. What a coincidence.”

“Or maybe I’m stalking you,” Stiles says. “I’m not, by the way,” he adds.

“I know,” Peter responds. “The PI I hired to follow you around would have mentioned it.”

Stiles grins. He really, really likes this guy. “Do you want to join me for lunch?”

“I can’t,” Peter apologises, genuine remorse on his face. “I have a meeting, I was just grabbing a coffee.”

“Oh,” Stiles says, trying not to look like a rejected child.

“We need to set a date though,” Peter says. “I’m free next Tuesday evening or all day Sunday.”

“I’m heading back to California for a couple of weeks,” Stiles says. “Spring Break and I missed my friend’s birthday, so I said we’d hang out.”

“I’d forgotten Spring Break was a thing,” Peter says.

“It’s not quite the same when you get to my age,” Stiles says.

“Don’t make me feel old,” Peter responds dryly. He sighs, moving along with the line. “I’m going to Singapore next week, then Dubai, then I promised Chris I’d go to France with him.”

Stiles nods. “Give me a call when you get back maybe? I’m sure we can figure something out.”

They never do. There’s calls, there’s texts, there’s flirting and promises, but somehow it never all comes together.

Spring turns to summer, hot and sticky, and Stiles dreams of getting out of the city for a few days. He misses the cool of the woods. He misses nature. Instead, he goes up to the roof of his apartment building, puts down a blanket on the concrete, and promptly falls asleep. He has to get Lydia to come around and put lotion on his back. She rightfully gives him shit for it.

The next day is when Peter decides to call. “Have you ever been on a yacht?”

“That’s a leading question if ever I heard one,” Stiles responds.

“A business associate owed me a favour,” Peter says. “And you were just telling me how bored you were now that your endless knowledge harvest is on hold over the summer. Would you care to join me?”

“I would love to,” Stiles says, knowing his voice is already laced with regret. “But I can barely move right now. Sunburn. I suck. I’m sorry, I’m just not up to it. Unless… how long do you have the boat for?”

“It’s a yacht,” Peter says. “But only the next couple of days.”

“Yeah, I’m out of commission for at least that long,” Stiles says.

“Another time,” Peter says.

“Another time,” Stiles agrees, trying very hard to believe it.

Fall brings an uptick in Stile’s schedule, as always. He’s spent the majority of his twenties wandering the NYU campus. Maybe he is getting too old for this. Maybe this should be his last go around. The real world is beckoning and Stiles can’t ignore it forever.

When Halloween rolls around, Peter invites him to a party.

“Aren’t you a little old for trick or treating?” Stiles teases.

“Less candy, more alcohol,” Peter says.

“But I like candy,” Stiles pouts.

Peter chuckles. “I will bring you some along, if you would care to be my date.”

“Quick question, are we dressing up?” Stiles asks.

“That is the tradition,” Peter says.

“Okay, I’m going to be Batman,” Stiles says. “I’ll meet you there.”

Peter sends him the address for a fancy bar in Midtown and Stiles gets there fashionably late because he doubts he’ll know anyone else who’s there. After doing a few laps, it becomes obvious that Peter is even more fashionably late. Figures. As the night wears on, he wonders when fashionable turns into just plain rude.

There is candy though. And there’s definitely alcohol. And there’s cheesy music and good company and Stiles kind of gets swept up in it all. It’s after midnight when he’s on the subway heading home that he realises he has a missed call from Peter and a voicemail.

“Stiles, I am so sorry, I don’t blame you for not picking up. I was upstate meeting a client and my car broke down in the middle of nowhere and there was no signal. I had to trek to the nearest town. But that doesn’t matter. I’m so sorry I didn’t show. I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

Stiles taps out a text in response. _The fates are not on our side. Don’t worry, I had fun. I’m sorry you missed out on my dance moves ;)_

Peter is clearly still awake because he responds right away. _I’m definitely very sorry about that too x_

With the fall semester coming to an end and the completion of his third Master’s degree on the horizon, Stiles finds himself doing a little soul searching. He talks to his favourite professors about what his options might be, and they are many and varied, but none of them really talk to him. He wants to stay here. He wants to keep learning. But maybe it’s time he did that as a professor instead of a student.

He decides that over Christmas break, he’s going to lock himself away, no distractions, and really figure out what he wants from life. He hasn’t been 18 for a long time. He hasn’t even been 22 for a long time. He really doesn’t have any excuse to be so uncertain about his future as though he shouldn’t be already there.

So he turns down all of the invitations and he tells his dad he won’t be home this year. He takes it surprisingly well. Maybe it’s that new girlfriend of his. Stiles was kind of wondering if he was ever going to get a step-mom. Maybe that will be his Christmas present.

He buys a tiny turkey crown, putting it in the oven and making his apartment smell amazing. He starts putting the trimmings together when he opens up his kitchen cupboard and sees that he is a total, total idiot. That shouldn’t be news to him.

He pulls on his snow boots and he remembers the beginning of the year when he bought them before his trip with Lydia. The day he met Peter. They still talk but it never really worked out. Stiles has bigger things to be thinking about now though.

He bundles himself up in his coat and hat and scarf, wishing he could find the snow and freezing temperatures festive, but he doesn’t. He really, really doesn’t. Needs must though, and turkey needs cranberry sauce, so the nearest all night grocery store is his only option.

It’s quiet, Christmas muzak playing from the speakers, but it feels like where the Holidays went to die. Stiles feels so sorry for every employee stuck in here. He grabs the cranberry sauce and heads for the checkout when he stops in his tracks. There in line is Peter. Maybe that’s his Christmas present.

“Well, this is insane,” Stiles says as he steps up beside Peter.

Peter blinks at him. “Hello.”

“I gotta admit, I’m kind of getting mixed messages from the universe right now,” Stiles says.

“We were due a little bit of fortune,” Peter responds.

“Or some Christmas magic,” Stiles says.

Peter smiles at that. “I’m not celebrating much this year. I’m spending it alone. But it will be good. This year has been crazy.”

“Me too,” Stiles agrees. “Even so, what are you doing here on Christmas Eve night?”

Peter holds up a jar of cranberry sauce, a more fancy brand than the one that Stiles picked out. Stiles silently hold up his own jar and they burst into laughter right there in the queue. It’s like everything slots into place, all of those near misses leading them here, to this store in this moment with the same exact purpose. Sometimes it’s all about timing.

“My turkey’s small, but it could probably stretch to two,” Peter says. “If you decided you did want any company tomorrow.”

“Or you could come share my turkey with me tonight,” Stiles says. “Everything’s ready except the cranberry sauce.”

“Or we could do both,” Peter suggests.

Stiles smiles. “Or we could do both.”

They buy their items and head out into the street together, and suddenly the snow does look kind of magical.

“No judging my apartment, it’s kind of shitty,” Stiles says. “Maybe when I’m a professor I can afford a nicer one.”

“You’re going to be a professor?” Peter asks.

“Yeah,” Stiles says, the same certainty settling in his gut as when he saw that cranberry sauce in Peter’s hand. “I’m going to be a professor.”


End file.
